


Hunger Hurts

by korvidae



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Background Mai/Zuko - Freeform, Character Study, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Kataang Valentine's Bash 2021, Post-Canon, Pregnancy, Southern Water Tribe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:55:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29432043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korvidae/pseuds/korvidae
Summary: Katara was not known for her patience—she preferred to be active in her own life, to reach out and take what she wanted with both hands. But in her time with Aang, she learned that, while there was certainly no glamour in waiting, there was something so thrilling about finally gaining the opening to make your move.Kataang Valentine’s Bash prompt pair: Crave/Devour.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 52
Collections: Kataang Valentine's Bash 2021





	1. Crave

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine’s Day! 
> 
> This seemingly never-ending year of pandemic-induced loneliness has got me thinking a lot about longing, dreaming, and how the experience of making your desires manifest in the material world can take a sometimes tedious and meandering path. So naturally, when I saw news of this event, my mind immediately went to wondering about how Aang and Katara would deal with extended times apart and how they would balance their obligations to the world and to each other. Or, to put it more plainly, Aang is away on United Republic business and Katara realizes that she's ready to start a family.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aang is away in Cranefish Town with Sokka and Zuko. While training waterbenders in the South Pole, Katara finds herself dreaming of her future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set about 10 years post-Sozin’s comet.

Katara was distracted.

This was not the first time. It had become something of a frequent occurrence since Aang went away—no matter if she were in the middle of something mundane or significant, or who she was with, she would find her attention pulled away by almost inexplicable things. A warm breeze, the sound of a bell in the distance, the scent of burning herbs wafting from a nearby home, the smell almost identical to incense...it all reminded her of Aang.

It also didn’t help that Katara was frequently reminded of his absence. After the war, young men returning from battle and waterbenders from the North searching for work flocked to the South Pole, and consequently, the Southern Water Tribe was experiencing a baby-boom not seen in generations. One couldn’t go anywhere in the capital without bumping into a young couple or a mother running errands with her new baby stowed snugly in her hood.

It was a good thing Gran-Gran had thought to train new midwives; her work was certainly cut out for her.

It was one of these new babies that had so viciously yanked Katara’s attention away from the task at hand. With Aang gone, she had no one to lure her out of bed at a reasonable hour with the promise of tea and breakfast. Instead, she slept late, which forced her to rush out of the house to make her classes on time. If she could manage it, she usually bought hot soup at a vendor on her way. As she stood in line, her eyes slid across the road, unfocused, when a pair of bright, round eyes locked with hers. It took a second for her sleepy brain to register that she was in a staring match with an adorable baby. A Water Tribe baby with almost-grey eyes, a baby that looked an awful lot like what she imagined her babies with Aang might look like.

And then the old woman at the soup stall gave a little cough, and Katara came back to herself. As she shuffled with her coin to pay, clearly caught off-guard, the woman craned her neck to see what had so captivated Katara; when Katara looked back up to accept her bowl, she was greeted by a wrinkled, sweetly condescending smile. Katara smiled back, embarrassed, and stepped aside to eat her breakfast as fast as she could without making herself sick. She had stepped out of the way of the line, but she was also out of the woman’s line of sight, and she prayed her blush would vacate her face before she needed to return her bowl.

* * *

When Katara trained waterbenders at the South Pole, a small plot of land by the bay was converted into a camp and training space for her. As she descended the hill, she could see most of her students were already out of their tents and getting ready for the day’s lessons.

She had found success in splitting her class into two groups, novice and advanced: the latter having already had some training in the Northern Water Tribe; the former, who were mostly young teenagers, had been taught the basics by Pakku, who deemed them ready to learn more advanced bending. By now, they were half-way through their time with her. They knew the routine—the advanced students were off on their own, meditating or stretching, while the novice students were preparing their practice space, filling tubs with water, or waiting by her platform awaiting her arrival. She preferred to keep an eye on them, and so she guided their warm-up every day and made herself available to answer any lingering questions from the previous lesson.

While the advanced group was off on their own, Katara sat on her platform and drank her tea as the novice benders demonstrated the forms they were instructed to practice for homework.

A sigh slid past Katara’s lips and over the surface of her tea before she could stop it.

“Panuk—,” she started, a warning tone in her voice. The boy froze, eyes wide and shining. Katara quickly reeled in her exasperation; it was far too early in the day for tears.

“Do you remember what we discussed a few weeks back about why we should avoid locking our knees while we bend?”

“Because you might pass out?” he supplied in a rapid squeak. Katara felt her left eyelid twitch slightly.

“…Yes,” she said slowly as if trying to calm a scared animal, “and why else, Panuk?”

Katara tried not to wince; he was really on the spot now. Most of his group mates had stopped what they were doing and watched him intently. When they had begun lessons, Katara had tried to impart the idea that they were a _community_ —criticism or praise of one student was meant to be accepted and absorbed by _all_ so everyone could benefit. She did not grade them; there were no winners or losers.

Despite her best efforts, however, they were still a bunch of hypercompetitive little shits.

“Uhhhh…” Panuk searched around, broadcasting his uncertainty. He cast his gaze skyward, refusing to meet Katara’s eyes. “Rigidity…in the joints…impedes the flow of chi…and prevents us from engaging with the…the movement of water…as our guiding element.” He forced the words out with strenuous effort, stopping to take little gasping breaths as he recalled Katara’s words. It was as though he was reciting national secrets at knifepoint.

“Correct, Panuk,” Katara said as brightly as she could manage, forcefully shelving her annoyance in her mind. She needed to cut the boy some slack; she certainly wasn’t a confident bender at 13. He just needed more practice. “And I hope everyone _else_ heard that, too,” she said pointedly, shooting a sharp glance at a select few of her students.

“Panuk, why don’t you practice a bit with Kirima, then rejoin the line to show me the form again when you’re ready?” Katara had barely finished the sentence when Panuk gave a quick nod and hurried off in the direction of his classmate.

 _Good_ , Katara thought to herself as she sipped her tea. _Kirima has excellent form; she’ll set him straight_.

The next student shuffled over nervously to demonstrate before Master Katara. The orange light of dawn was just starting to bleed over the horizon.

Katara sighed. It was going to be another long day.

* * *

Katara was not the best at taking criticism; even she could admit that much. But if there was a criticism she could easily accept, it was this: her relentless restlessness could be _tiresome_. This was why, at 23, she sometimes sent little gifts to Gran-Gran without any explanation. Had Aang not emerged from that iceberg to satisfy her developing wanderlust, she was sure her occasional hormonal moodiness would’ve developed into full-blown pathological unpleasantness. She couldn’t help that that was just who she was. She positively thrived in new and strange places; she enjoyed the challenge of change. And when she was forced into a routine, the ensuing stagnation made her downright depressed.

And teaching was all about routine.

Katara woke—or rather, forcibly dragged herself out of bed—at an hour most would consider late. After dressing and re-braiding her hair, she rushed to secure breakfast and all but ran to the campground for lessons. She was usually still waking up while her students moved through warm-ups. By the time the sun had emerged fully over the bay, the class had started, and she was up on her feet, pacing through groups of students, demonstrating forms, and even sparring with her advanced students. Most had come with the specific intent of gaining combat training, and while it was her favorite style to teach, there was no doubt that it was tiring work.

A few evenings a week, as the sun began to set, some benders from the capital would descend the hill to join Katara and a selection of her regular students in healing training. This group—which even included a few boys—learned basic healing techniques with Katara while in the South Pole. The students Katara felt were fit for further training would be sent to the North Pole for advanced practice with Yugoda. Katara herself had plans to learn some master-level healing techniques for internal injuries over the summer.

Since Aang had left for Cranefish Town three weeks prior, Katara took her dinners with Gran-Gran and Pakku at their home. It was nice to have the company; some nights, her father would even stop by. And after a long day of teaching, it was especially welcome to have a homecooked meal waiting for her.

“Kirima isn’t giving you any trouble, is she?” Pakku asked his step-granddaughter as he ladled kelp noodles and stewed fish into her bowl.

“Kirima? No, not at all! Actually, she’s one of my better students in bending _and_ behavior.”

Pakku raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I’m relieved to hear it! She’s an extremely talented waterbender, no question, but she can have a rotten attitude and be unnecessarily argumentative.” (Katara tried not to smile as Gran-Gran rolled her eyes over her shoulder at that comment). “I told her if I heard she was giving you even an ounce of the trouble she gave me, I’d rescind my recommendation,” he continued, oblivious.

“Well, I can report that one month in, I’ve gotten no grief from Kirima. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

“Good.”

Gran-Gran finally sat to join them, and for a few moments, the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the slurping of noodles. Eventually, Pakku set down his bowl, looked over to Katara, and said: “So—tell me about the modifications you made to the ice dagger forms.”

 _There it was_. There was the question he’d probably wanted to ask her from the moment she arrived. Pakku had really grown on Katara over the years, especially after she’d seen how much he helped Gran-Gran as she got older. She just wished that he weren’t always so single-minded.

Of course, this natural frustration left her feeling guilty. Pakku had been an invaluable resource in preparing her to teach, and she felt nothing but gratitude for the countless hours he had spent not only in improving her waterbending as a teenager but also for his reliable advice regarding instruction. But no matter how she rationalized it, there was still a little selfish part of her that, after a nearly 10-hour day of teaching, would give its left pinky to talk about literally anything else—or better yet, to simply not talk at all!

She steeled herself, taking a deep breath. As about half of her weary mind launched her into a tedious explanation of the minutia of the changes she had made, the other half of her mind paddled dangerously toward treacherous waters.

She missed Aang. Every time she remembered he wasn’t waiting for her back home or wouldn’t be lying beside her when she woke in the night, her heart stung like a fresh bruise.

They had spent the winter together in the South Pole, and the icy weather often kept them indoors for days at a time. She had gotten a bit of cabin fever, but with him away, she remembered those long, dark days more fondly. They’d cook together, do little chores around the house together. Katara had been gifted books on healing theory from the Northern Water Tribe, and they would take turns reading aloud and practicing the movements on one another. They would spend hours playing cards, or Pai Sho, or simply talking. They made love.

Unbidden, the image of Aang above her, half-cast in shadow with her leg hooked over his shoulder, flashed behind her eyes.

“Katara?”

She blinked, and both Pakku and Gran-Gran materialized before her, wearing matching expressions of expectant amusement.

Katara’s face suddenly felt hot.

“Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly, suddenly needing to do something—anything—with her hands, or she would surely combust. She settled for nesting her empty bowls. “My mind must’ve gone somewhere else…”

Pakku scoffed at that, and Gran-Gran lightly swatted his shoulder.

“Can’t a girl miss her husband?” Gran-Gran asked with a sharp look. Katara wanted to seep through the floor.

* * *

Katara awoke in the dark and instinctively reached over to the right side of the futon, only for her hand to grope at the empty air before flopping back down onto the quilt.

He wasn’t there.

Katara peeled her eyelids apart and sat up to peer out the window. The moon, a silver sliver, sat high in the sky, bathing the snowy landscape in an eerie light. Katara moaned in frustration, letting gravity pull her back onto the mattress with no resistance.

She had another one of those dreams, those dreams that left her feeling confused and fuzzy brained upon waking. Those dreams made her _want_ things.

From the moment she first let herself name the fluttering thing in her chest that went wild when she thought of Aang, Katara knew that she wanted to be with him for the rest of their lives, knew she wanted a family with him. But when she was a teenager, that was an abstract concept, a blurry image in her head of a man who could be an older Aang, holding a cooing bundle in his arms that could be their child. For many years, it didn’t go beyond that.

Many things about their early years together felt like that, like looking through an open doorway into a room they weren’t yet ready to enter. They knew what they meant to each other, what they wanted from each other, but with the mounting pressure of everything required of them, their feelings were often put on the back burner, something to be revisited later. For a time, they were content to simply look to one another and know, to understand those unspoken vows and carry on with their obligations. _Soon, soon_.

As they got older and their desires began to take on more clarity and definition, they carved out time together and started taking hesitant steps through that threshold of intimacy. But even then, there were looming specters of potential danger; they were still teenagers, after all, and the old guard was all too happy to watch them squander their reputations in the name of upholding the status quo.

Katara sighed into the darkness. She had imagined when they had finally gotten married that things would be easier, and to some extent, that was the case. They weren’t made to feel ashamed anymore; there were no more chaperones, and even in more conservative circles, a quick kiss in public or a lingering embrace was now at the very least permissible.

But there were still other things to consider, like children. When they became engaged, they agreed to be careful. Aang was freshly eighteen, and Katara knew that neither of them was ready to be a parent. Aang decided that he wanted Katara to have the time she needed to establish her mastery, as much as he needed time to figure out what he, along with Zuko, would do to fix the damage leftover by the Hundred Year War.

And so they took the necessary precautions and continued their work. They weren’t in a hurry; they would wait until they were ready.

So the question remained: were they ready _now_? Katara was a recognized Master in every Nation. Aang had not only been integral in creating the United Republic Plan with Zuko, but he had also managed to establish the Air Acolytes and become a cultural leader. From the looks of things, they had accomplished their goals. What was stopping them?

Katara’s eyes slid shut. In her dream, like so many she’d had in the past few months, she was a mother. They were on some beach, maybe Kyoshi Island, and she was trailing behind Aang and their daughter as they walked in the surf.

 _Their daughter_. This was the clearest any of these dreams had been. The girl was maybe two, certainly no older; as she toddled along in the waves, Aang held her hands, keeping her steady as she giggled and kicked her chubby legs in the foamy water. She had Aang’s spiky black hair, and she looked back at Katara with her own blue eyes. She was a perfect assemblage of both of their features.

At that moment, she knew this child, had named this child. Then she woke up.

Katara’s breathing sounded too loud in the silent room.

Maybe they were ready. Aang was 21 now; no one could argue that he wasn’t an adult. She remembered something he had put in his last letter over a week ago, about how Zuko had given them an island in Cranefish Town harbor on behalf of the Fire Nation. They had camped there a few times as teenagers.

_I’ve already spoken to a builder—I’m sorry I’m only telling you now, I was a bit excited! But wouldn’t it be an excellent place for us to settle down?_

A place that’s just for them.

Katara rolled over and tossed a cushion over her head. She would have to talk to him about this when he returned. She needed to sleep.

* * *

It was only morning, but Katara couldn’t help but feel optimistic about how the day would go.

For one thing, she was already in a better mood. She was watching Panuk move through forms, the ease in his joints and fluidity of his movements a sharp departure from the jerking twitch of the day before.

“You’ve been practicing!”

Katara bent a narrow stream of water from a bucket set off to the side. Panuk understood, nodded once sharply, and Katara sent the water into his outstretched hands. His acceptance was a bit shaky, and his stance wasn’t ideal, but it didn’t need to be—he was still learning.

She was so absorbed in cataloging his improvements and making mental notes that Katara missed the large shadow that passed over the camp. She did, however, catch the gasps of students and an excited “ _Was that him?!_ ” from the back.

Katara’s spine straightened; a little thrill shot through her like a jolt of electricity. She stood at once, but just as she began to step forward, she remembered something.

“Excellent work, Panuk,” she said, suddenly a little breathless, but she looked into his eyes with such earnestness that he turned beet-red and began stammering. When she looked back at the students, she was met with a sea of wide-eyes and gaping mouths.

“Well?” her voice cracked a little. Her heart was pounding in her ears. _He’s back, he’s back, he’s back_. “Shouldn’t we go greet him?”

All at once, the sound of crunching snow filled the air as she and her students swept up the hill. Either through her own effort or the sense from her students that letting her go first was the right thing to do, she wasn’t sure, Katara found herself at the head of the crowd. Their gasping breaths and rapid whispered speech were like strange music behind the pounding rhythm of her heartbeat.

Even in her eagerness to see him, there was some apprehension—he was back early. His last letter placed him returning to the South Pole in about another week or so, at the earliest. Her earlier happiness became colored with worry.

Was he OK? Did something happen in Cranefish Town? (She knew from experience that it wasn’t the safest place). What about Zuko or Sokka? She could see some orange in the distance beside a hulking gray mass. Her throat felt tight.

The whispered chatter was getting louder now. Katara let out the breath she was holding as she got closer; he looked fine, thank the spirits. He was feeding Appa out of a sack and scratching behind an enormous ear. Hearing the crunching snow and excited chatter, he looked over his shoulder with the pleased smile of a man expecting welcome company. “Good morning, everyone!” he called with a wave.

Katara was grinning, and her eyes stung. She pulled her hand out of her mitten to swipe at her face and felt tears.

As expected, once Aang acknowledged them, the dam of anxiousness burst, and her students rushed him. They welcomed him back, they peppered him with questions, they asked if they could touch Appa. (Appa, alarmed by the squealing, turned tail and lumbered straight for the stables, much to Katara’s amusement). This was all too familiar for Katara; Aang would get flustered by the interest and would try to answer questions and be polite, only to find himself sucked into an impromptu interview from which she would have to rescue him. She sighed indulgently, preparing herself for the inevitable onslaught of his celebrity.

What Katara did not expect, however, was that Aang would nod to them and gently say “excuse me” as he parted the stunned crowd to make a beeline directly for her. She did not expect how, when his eyes met hers, she would be rooted to the spot. In a few strides of his long legs, she found herself enveloped so sweetly in his warm embrace, the spicy, smokey scent of Cranefish Town still clinging to his robes.

“I missed you,” he rumbled into her hair as her feet returned to the snow. How did she miss that he had lifted her?

And then he kissed her. He never parted his lips, but even still, Katara found herself fisting the fabric of his sleeves, pulling him to her. He hummed into the kiss, then pulled away from her, but only just. Then, Katara realized that it was dead silent, and there were about forty pairs of eyes locked squarely on her.

Embarrassment flared under her skin. She reached up to smooth her hands over her hair, a tick from her teenage years, and found Aang’s arm still tight around her middle. She looked at him in her peripheral vision: he looked serene and untroubled, no blush to be seen on his face.

“Master Katara?” he asked casually, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “Would you need any assistance with your lesson this morning?”

Well, that pivot certainly did the trick. The shocked looks were at once replaced with vibrating energy. Katara smirked.

“I don’t see why not,” she mused noncommittally. “Of course, they still need to complete their warm-up before we introduce any technique.”

And with that, her students turned and rushed down the hill. Aang’s arm was still around her waist, and he pulled her closer to his side as they followed the crowd.

“You’re back early,” she said after a few moments of quiet walking. “Did something happen?” she ventured cautiously.

Aang seemed to consider the question for a moment, then answered “Yes and no.” When Katara’s brow furrowed at that, he amended quickly: “Nothing bad.”

Katara turned to face him directly. “Elaborate, please,” she said in her teacher-voice.

Aang’s eyes darted around nervously for a moment. “I guess I can tell you now. I was going to wait; it’s a secret…”

“Aang, _what_?”

They walked over to her platform as her students were making a show of their warm-ups, clearly for Aang’s benefit. She was confident they wouldn’t be overheard unless they started shouting.

Aang angled his face, so he was speaking into her ear.

“Mai’s pregnant,” he told her. “She sent a messenger over as soon as she found out. As I’m sure you can imagine, Zuko was very eager to get back to the Fire Nation when he heard the news.” Katara could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. “We worked around the clock to get the proposals done as soon as possible; I’ve never seen Zuko write so fast,” he added with a chuckle.

Katara felt slightly dazed and strangely exposed by the news. _Mai’s pregnant_. “So you’re back a week early because Zuko wanted to be with Mai? How _romantic_ ,” she joked to keep herself from getting emotional. Zuko and Mai must be elated; they’d been trying for a baby for almost three years. “You didn’t let Sokka give him a hard time about it, did you?”

“Only a little bit, at first,” Aang admitted sheepishly, the scamp. From their vantage on the platform, they could see every student as they practiced. “But even he wasn’t immune to the gesture. He was just as eager to get back as Zuko; to see Suki, I’m sure. And I already missed you terribly, you know,” he murmured in a low voice. “The news just made it worse.”

Katara’s heart rate sped up. Her students were getting antsy; they kept glancing in their direction, ready to show off for the Avatar. She decided it was better to end things herself before they were interrupted.

“Well, you’re back now,” she said with a little smile. “We’ll have to talk about it more later.”

“Agreed.”

With that, she called her students to attention, Aang’s hand still resting gently at the small of her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is Devour; it’s a bit steamy, but nothing explicit. Scout’s honor.


	2. Devour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aang is welcomed back to the Southern Water Tribe, and he and Katara discuss their plans for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, there is no smut, but this chapter does get a little sexy at times.

It did not take long for news of Aang’s arrival to travel to the capital.

Within two hours of Aang touching down on the South Pole, a winded intern from the Earth Kingdom’s embassy came tumbling down to the camp. He was sent to formally invite the Avatar, Master Katara, and her waterbending students to a private dinner with the ambassador, Chief Hakoda, and a handful of other diplomats and politicians stationed in the city. This invitation was delivered orally and within earshot of about a dozen novices. When Katara saw the eager expressions on their faces, she reluctantly acquiesced. As much as she wanted to be alone with Aang as soon as possible, she couldn’t deny her students the opportunity to enjoy some ritzy foreign food on the Earth King’s coin. Maybe having them there would make the experience of being droned at by some of the most boring, self-important people on the planet a little more bearable.

Once the invitation’s excitement was behind them, they threw themselves into their training, trying their hardest to one-up each other and impress Aang with their skill. Aang seemed so relaxed; Katara was sure he was exhausted from his trip from Cranefish Town and the long hours spent rushing to get their work done early. He must’ve been enjoying the simple challenge of bending and sparring without having to think. He went where Katara told him to go without question, including assisting Kirima and Panuk with practicing water-whip technique. (When Aang touched Panuk’s arm to get it into proper position, Panuk looked like he was having a stroke). And when she needed him to join her on the platform to demonstrate, she needed to remind herself to breathe; it was a challenge not to get thrown off by the adoration in his eyes when he looked at her.

As darkness crept in at the edge of the afternoon, Katara called off the evening healing lesson. No one seemed much to mind; they were all occupied with packing up their things and getting ready to head into the city. Katara used the underside of a shiny copper pot like a mirror to smooth her flyaways back into her braid. It had been a kind gesture to offer them dinner; still, she couldn’t help but feel a bit put out about having to show up in front of a bunch of aristocrats who, she knew from experience, would take any opportunity to judge her.

After packing up camp, she and Aang began their trek up to the capital. They stood and looked at the modest urban sprawl as the streets glowed in the sunset. It sometimes still stunned her how much her world had changed in the second half of her life.

Katara looked over as she felt Aang lightly tug her mitten from her right hand. He grazed his calloused thumb over her knuckles.

“I’m going to stop by the stables and check on Appa on my way over,” he said in a soft voice, slightly raspy from the hours of yelling and laughing in the cold air. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she replied, not bothering to hide her disappointment. Aang brushed his lips over her knuckles, and with a wink, he let go over her hand and turned to walk off in the opposite direction.

How he still managed to make knees weak after almost nine years together was beyond her.

* * *

Aang slipped in beside Katara at dinner just as Chief Hakoda arrived.

The embassy hall was warm and dark and loud. The walls were made of heavy stone with torches bracketed every few feet. Despite this, there was a pervasive moodiness in the lighting, as though they were underground. It had clearly been designed to host events with at least a hundred people in attendance; the room seemed comically oversized for her forty-some-odd students and the dozen or so ambassadors and representatives seated at her table. The giddy voices of her students bounced around the cavernous room.

Katara never got to ask Aang how he managed to sneak in undetected; the moment Hakoda saw him, he grinned and called him over the din, alerting the rest of the table that the Avatar had arrived. He was swarmed in minutes.

Katara plastered a smile on her face, nodding and offering niceties as Aang wrapped an arm around her shoulders; the onslaught of polite conversation had begun. To his credit, whenever she was addressed simply as his wife, he would find a way to drop _Master Katara_ into the conversation somehow. She could feel her face turning red when he made a point to brag about her skill to a representative from the Northern Water Tribe who never smiled, not even once. It was tedious business, trying to entertain spineless busybodies as they vied for Aang’s attention. She frequently found herself side-stepping the odd invasive personal question, or the pointed remark about Fire Lord Zuko or the United Republic Plan meant to catch her off guard. Eventually, Hakoda made his way to them, loudly stating he’d like to talk to his _son-in-law_ to try and shake off the rest of the crowd with some familial awkwardness.

Then dinner finally appeared, and mouths were duly quieted. Katara noticed Aang was making a bit of a show of how ravenous he was from his journey, taking a bite of food and chewing slowly whenever a needling comment was tossed in his direction. As they ate, he leaned his torso slightly in Katara’s direction, absentmindedly placing a hand on her thigh from time to time as he spoke. She wondered if he even knew he was doing it. After the time they spent apart, every touch, no matter how small, got her attention.

Gradually, the table emptied; Aang wasn’t playing their games, and they had more important things to do than sit around and watch the Avatar eat. Hakoda departed as well, citing an early trade meeting in the morning. Aang ordered more food and a pot of tea. Katara looked out to the tables in the hall. Most of her students were still there, eating, goofing off, and ordering drinks. She watched their antics with some amusement; with Aang back, she felt less self-conscious about their behavior. Their presence had been requested, after all.

Aang leaned toward her. “Thank you,” he whispered into her ear. Before he pulled away, he placed a tiny peck on the outer rim, then returned to the last of his food as if he had done nothing out of the ordinary.

“Whatever for?” she asked aloud.

“For being so patient,” he answered as he stacked his empty plates and pushed them to the front of the table for easy collection. As he poured himself tea, he added under his breath, “I’ll make it up to you.”

Katara shifted closer to him until their legs were touching. She kept her eyes forward, trying to ascertain if anyone was watching them; it seemed no one was paying them any mind at all.

“Will you really?” she asked playfully.

“Hmm,” he hummed in answer, blowing at the steam rising from his teacup. “I don’t feel I’ve conveyed well enough how _much_ I missed you.” He kept his eyes forward as he spoke, but there was no denying the tone of his voice of the implications of his words. Katara shuddered slightly.

Then she remembered what he had told her earlier.

“What did you mean when you said hearing the news made you miss me?”

“I _already_ missed you; the news just made it worse,” he corrected her affectionately, sipping his tea. “You’re my family, and I just wanted to be back with you. Wherever you are, that’s home to me.”

She offered him a sad smile at his change in tone. That was the thing about Aang: he could go from playful or flirtatious to deadly serious in a moment’s notice.

“We could have a permanent home, you know,” Katara replied quietly. “What about Zuko’s gift? We could live there like you mentioned in your letter.” Her nail traced a hairline crack in the lip of the teacup.

“Do you want that?” he asked as he turned to get a better look at her.

“I do,” she answered. “I think it would be a good place for us. I know how proud you are of the work you’ve done there.”

Aang looked down at his tea with a humble smile. “You know, we gave it a proper name in the government proposals. We’re calling it Republic City now,” he said quietly. It was probably another secret.

“ _Republic City_ ,” she enunciated in a low voice as Aang watched her nervously. “That’s quite the improvement over Cranefish Town,” she said lightheartedly.

“So you like it?” he asked, sounding relieved. Katara laughed.

“I do! Besides, it just makes sense, doesn’t it? Isn’t the entire point of the United Republic that it’s designed for people of all nations, bender or not?” She recalled the conversation they had in Yu Dao all those years ago.

She pushed her nearly empty teacup toward Aang, and he filled it for her. The reverberating chatter in the hall was jubilant and a bit chaotic—a product of the free booze, no doubt—but it was easy enough to tune out and let fade into the background, like the sound of a thunderstorm. Three people still lingered at the end of their table, heads bowed together in conversation.

Katara still felt some trepidation in voicing her thoughts aloud, as though speaking about them would somehow make them real. But as Katara looked into Aang’s eyes, she was reminded of exactly who she had married; she was safe with him. He would listen to her without judgment. Now was the time.

“It would be a good place for our family.”

Aang tilted his head, thinking, but didn’t break eye contact with her. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

“Is that something you’ve been thinking about?” his voice was gentle; it made Katara feel warm. “Starting a family?”

“Yes, I have,” she answered, confidence adding strength to her voice. “Have you?” she asked.

He picked up his teacup and gazed at it for a moment before speaking. The pale blue of the glaze almost matched the color of his tattoo.

“I have,” he admitted. “I’ve always known that I wanted that with you,” his voice was hushed as he spoke, looking down at his hands. “But when we heard the news—I don’t know. I guess it just finally got stuck in the forefront of my mind. We’ve always had so many other things to deal with, but now…I feel like this might be a good time to try.”

He brought his eyes to hers, seeking confirmation. Katara took a deep breath.

“I think so, too.”

Aang’s smile was like sunlight piercing the winter sky. “Yeah?”

Katara placed a hand on his forearm. “ _Yes_. In fact, it seems like it’s all I think about anymore,” she said with a chuckle. “In terms of being ready, I think we’re on the same page.”

She looked out to the tables beyond, where her students were utterly oblivious to their conversation. She felt Aang’s hand slide onto her thigh; when she glanced back at him, his eyes were twinkling at her with a specific kind of mischief.

“I’ll be done with this group in four more weeks,” she said nonchalantly, arching her back to pop her spine. “I don’t have anything else pressing lined up after that. I think I could take on a new project.” She looked over her shoulder at him as she stretched, smirking triumphantly at the way his mouth was hanging open.

Two teenagers came over to their table to collect the plates and wish them a good evening.

“Do you?” Aang’s voice cracked as he spoke. “And…when should I start _helping_ you with this project?”

“ _Well_ ,” Katara started as she stood, picking up her parka, “if my calculations are correct…”

“…Which they always are…” Aang added under his breath.

“…We could start tonight,” she added in a low voice, slipping on her mittens.

Aang’s eyebrows shot up as he stood. He glanced around quickly, then looked back at his wife with a devious smirk.

“Let’s go before they notice we’re leaving.”

* * *

Katara awoke in the dark and, for a split second, panicked at the feeling of being weighed down, only to realize that Aang was holding her in his sleep. His even, shallow breathing tickled the hair around her ear.

The adrenaline spike of fear slowly deflated into relief. _It wasn’t a dream. He is back_.

They had snuck out of the embassy without getting caught, slipping out a side door and into a dark alley. The sound of people milling about the capital on their way home for the evening could be heard from where they stood. Aang held her hand the entire way back to the house. It made her feel like a kid again as they snuck around.

Once they were at the door, he pulled her hood aside and began kissing a path down her throat as she fumbled with the door latch.

“Aang!” she gasped. “Aang, ah, you have to stop or I, or—”

“Or what?” he whispered directly into her ear. He held her flush against him. The cold wind stung her neck where his hot mouth had been only seconds before.

He huffed a husky laugh. “Or I’ll have to fuck you in the alley?”

Katara let out an aggravated yell, startling them both. She shoved him hard in the middle of his chest as she went back for the latch, using more force than was necessary to throw open the door. She spun around, grabbed him roughly by the collar, and yanked him inside with her. The door shut with a deafening slam.

It only took a second for them to find each other in the dark. They kissed hungrily, weeks of longing finally spilling over into reality. She could touch him now, taste him; their lips, chapped from the cold, clung to one another greedily. Aang cupped the back of her head, deepening the kiss and bending her backward as his other hand slipped under her parka. Katara reached back, hand searching for something to lean on, except there wasn’t anything there. She stumbled, scaring them both.

Aang caught her, and they both laughed. He pulled his hand out from where it was inching along her rib cage, and it lit up in flame as he looked around the front room.

“You redecorated,” he stated, surprised.

Katara tried to collect herself. “There was a storm last week,” she explained with a shrug. “I was bored.”

He threw his head back and laughed, walking across the room to where she had placed a lamp to light it.

When he turned back to look at her, she was pleased to see that he looked as worked up as she felt. His lips were dark, his cheeks flushed, the collar of his cloak pulled askew. His eyes bore into her in the amber light, all mischief and wanting.

They were both breathing hard, and the room felt stifling. Aang watched her as she began to undo the fastenings of her parka at her collarbone.

“Where were we?” she asked, her voice sounding far breathier than she expected. Aang licked his lips and stepped toward her.

* * *

Katara squeaked as Aang suddenly tightened his hold on her, taking in a great gulp of air.

“Did I wake you?” she asked as he yawned behind her.

“Your breathing changed,” he mumbled sleepily, nuzzling his face into her shoulder. She sighed happily and melted into him, letting him shift their bodies on the futon as he gently rubbed his stubbled cheek against her skin. As she pushed herself deeper into his arms, she hummed a little at the pleasant soreness she felt between her legs.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured, voice raspy with sleep. “I never want to be away from you for that long again.”

Katara turned in his arms, bringing her fingertips toward the sound of his voice to touch his face in the scant moonlight. Her fourth finger skimmed over his cheek, and her middle finger lightly tapped the tip of his nose. Once the pads of her digits grazed his upper lip, she leaned forward to replace them her own lips, imbuing the kiss with all the gentle sweetness she could muster. He slipped his other arm around to hold her, his large hands splayed wide over her back. As she pulled away, she breathed “I love you,” featherlight, against his lips.

He moved to lay on his back, pulling her onto his chest as he kissed her forehead.

“Love you, too,” he whispered. Katara lifted her head to look at his face as her eyes adjusted to the low light. He looked at her with a little smile as he brushed the hair out of her eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, and the corners of his lips curled up further.

“Earlier,” he answered, and she felt herself grow warm under the weight of his gaze.

There had been nothing gentle or sweet about earlier; there was entirely too much pent-up desire between them, too much time to make up for. Their teeth had clicked together when they kissed; Katara had torn a seam in Aang’s tunic when she pulled it off him. They grabbed at each other as they stumbled into bed, heedless to bruising or scratches.

Katara let herself linger in bliss as Aang combed his fingers through her hair, his heartbeat keeping steady time beneath her cheek. Her mind supplied memories in little bursts: his hot breath on her shoulder, the bite of his short nails digging into her hips, the way he made her shout until her throat was raw. She exhaled contentedly under his ministrations and pressed her lips to his sternum.

She wouldn’t delude herself into thinking that having a family with him would mean he’d always be within arms-reach. Aang still belonged to the world as much as he belonged to her. But it soothed something deep inside of her to know that he wanted this as much as she did, that he was ready to build something new and entirely human with her.

Katara yawned; her eyelids felt heavy. She was only vaguely aware of Aang shifting again as he pulled the quilt over them.

The world could have Aang the Avatar as long as she could keep Aang the man.

That was enough.

* * *

Katara was startled from sleep by the blanket being slowly lifted from her head. Her first impulse was to fight.

But then she smelled food and the warm shimmery scent of burning oil and rubbed the grit from her eyes.

Aang was kneeling beside her, the blanket in one hand, a cup of tea in the other. He was dressed, but his feet were bare. The warmth of the room outside her cocoon meant he must have lit the lamps and started the hearth sometime before he woke her.

“Good morning,” he said with a smile that grew into a grin when her reply was a loud groan. Wordlessly, she reached out her hand as she sat up, and Aang pressed the teacup into her palm. “I guess you’ve gotten used to sleeping in, huh?” he asked cheekily.

Katara pulled the blanket up her naked chest and held out her tea to gesture to the blackened sky outside the window.

“I’m sure you notice there is no sun to rise with?” she asked sarcastically.

He laughed as she put on a great show of being irritated. He plucked her robe off the iron hook on the wall and knelt back down, offering it to her.

“Breakfast should be ready if you’d like some,” he said gently, tucking her hair behind her ear and placing a kiss on her temple. Then he left her to get dressed.

When she finally emerged from the bedroom, she was greeted by the warm glow of the hearth fire and the smell of broth and rice. Aang’s glider and bag sat by the door beside his boots—he must’ve visited Appa and retrieved his things while she was sleeping.

She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her cheek on the top of his smooth head. “Thank you for making breakfast,” she said in a little voice, feeling guilty about how irritable she was when she awoke. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply, placing a hand over hers. _Spirits, she loved him_. She kissed the top of his head with a loud “ _smek!_ ” making him chuckle.

“How long have you been up?” she asked as she took a seat beside him at the fire, carefully opening the pot of rice.

“Maybe two hours,” he answered. “I had trouble falling back asleep. Must’ve been all the excitement,” he added with a smirk.

“Or my baby-talk gave you nightmares,” she joked as she spooned rice into a bowl for herself. “You’re not getting cold feet on me, are you, Aang?”

For a moment, he just looked at her, then in a soft voice, he said, “No, I’m not,” and reached out to place his hand on her knee.

“I am nervous, though,” he admitted quietly. Katara could sense all the unsaid additions swirling around that statement. She knew his worries were probably piling up inside his head like snowfall. She placed her bowl down and laced her fingers in his.

“As am I,” she said, “but as long as you’re with me, I know we’ll be alright.”

Aang looked at their joined hands, then to Katara’s eyes, and smiled.

“You’re right. We’ll figure it out together.”

Of that, Katara had no doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Narrator: _Will [redacted] ever learn how to properly end a story?_  
>  Me: Absolutely the fuck not.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments are appreciated.


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